


The Moment When...

by drekadair



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drekadair/pseuds/drekadair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...Sherlock sees John in the pool, and doubts. Set during the end of "The Great Game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment When...

...you step through the side door into the dull fluorescent light of the pool, and the water casts ripples of illumination across your face. Your face, that ordinary, unremarkable face, so likeable, so easy to trust—I'd trusted it, hadn't I? I'd trusted it from the moment I saw you, with your Afghanistan tan and your unnecessary crutch.

(But how did you fake the tan?)

But this is the moment when I feel doubt, shock, disbelief—feelings I'm unaccustomed to feeling. I'm unaccustomed to feeling much of anything, but I've only known you for a few months and already you make me feel more—more alive, more happy, more focused. More human.

But how can you be here, when only the bomber could know where to find me? I stand frozen, for an eternal, unending moment, posed like some bizarre Greek statue with my hand up in the air, the memory stick in my hand. I try to think of another explanation: you followed me, you saw the post on my blog and deduced where I was going. But it's hard to think with this cold, hard force wrapped around my chest, crushing my ribs.

(But why are you wearing that coat?)

No, no I didn't see this coming. You were always one step behind my brilliant mind, always having to ask for the answer because you couldn't work it out for yourself. Only now I seem to be the one behind. And can it be that you are the equally brilliant mind behind all those clever puzzles? Can it be that you, John Watson, are in fact Moriarty, that you have maintained the perfect deception for all these months?

The thorny band constricting my breath tightens. I am afraid I have been outsmarted, outwitted. I am afraid I have played, and lost, and been played. But I am also afraid that, when you scolded me for keeping a severed head in the refrigerator, you didn't mean it. I am afraid that when you yelled at me for shooting holes in the walls, you didn't actually care. I am afraid that every time you said “extraordinary” in that admiring tone, it was a lie.

And so in this moment, when you open you coat and reveal the shiny packages and blinking lights of the explosives strapped to your chest, I am terrified because my only friend in is danger. But I am relieved because I know he is my friend.

**Author's Note:**

> When John appears at the swimming pool at the end of "The Great Game," you can tell from Sherlock's face that he thinks John might in fact be Moriarty—or rather, that Moriarty is in fact John. I wanted to explore some of the thoughts that must have gone through his head in that moment. Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
